In Her Memory
by Shadow of the End
Summary: He had lost her once, only to find her again on Korriban and then lose her once more on Dromund Kaas. A Sith Lord remembers an old friend, fallen in battle. Slight OC/OC. Accidental oneshot.


**Disclaimer:**I own only my Sith Pureblood. Sayrai is known by a friend of mine, and Star Wars is owned by George Lucas. You sue me I punch you. *glares*

A/N: So recently, my Guild's Guildmaster asked the members to submit a short blurb about what our characters do in their free time for him to place on our Guildsite. I, of course, having not written in forever, sat down to write a few lines and, well, this is what happened. Figured I'd post it here. Enjoy!

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Memories.

The result of witnessing or experiencing something, burned into the mind. Some retained memories better than others, and some could retain nothing in the short-term, while they could remember things months or even years in the past with perfect clarity.

Memory.

A fickle mistress, sometimes sweet and others bitter.

The Sith Pureblood's fist smashed through the paneling of his quarters on the Fury-class starship that he called home, before he sank heavily onto his bed. One of his Apprentices stood at the entrance to his quarters, watching almost impassively as his face sank into his hands and a quiet, heavy sigh escaped him.

He had failed.

His master, Darth Bartolus, had called him to his quarters, and the younger Sith could have sworn he'd heard the amusement in his master's voice as he'd told him to watch over her, only telling his apprentice that he had a "vested interest" in the little Inquisitor. Zentashin had shadowed her dutifully, noting immediately that the girl was the one he had met immediately upon arriving on Korriban. They had joined forces, temporarily, and upon arriving on Dromund Kaas had separated, Zentashin going to his master and the girl to hers.

He never got her name. He never asked.

Zentashin was still full of rage and hatred when he'd arrived at Korriban- as long as he could remember his family had been slaves, working themselves to exhaustion in the service of another Sith, and the one friend he had ever made, a girl that had looked beyond his red skin and aggressive disposition to find a boy who had been hurting and angry. He had been frustrated that his family, who should by the Empire's standards be revered almost as Gods among men, were reduced to mere dogs, had been taken away and sold to some other master. Zentashin's rage, once held in check, skyrocketed in intensity until a raid on the compound he had been enslaved at. The Sith present had seen how he had subconsciously channeled the Force to enhance his physical ability, his rage spurring him beyond what his body was normally meant to do. They had sent him off to train as a Warrior, and Darth Bartolus had then taken him under his wing.

And then he'd met the girl.

She was so kind, so pure of heart it made him ache-and he used that feeling, twisted it and turned it to fuel for the rage that had kept him going. He came to see her with affection in the short time they spent together, and just like with the ache, he twisted and perverted the feeling to fuel his power. He started to call her Violet after the color of her hair and eyes.

And he wasn't strong or fast enough to protect her.

He had been shadowing her for some time, heedless of how it would look for a Sith Lord to follow a mere Apprentice, when she had been attacked. Sith who followed under another Dark Lord had ambushed her, and he hadn't spotted them in time. When they showed themselves, he had immediately made his presence known, cutting them down quickly and easily.

Her Dashade had been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Oh, the beast was powerful, yes. It had fought admirably, destroying and devouring them almost fast enough to frighten Zentashin, but the lesser Sith had quickly gotten the picture and coordinated to destroy it. It had fallen with a roar, taking one last fool with it. Violet had fared little better, and when she fell...

Zentashin's own Apprentice, a young girl who had been a Jedi Padawan until he had gotten to her, had beaten a hasty retreat- she knew better than to get in his way.

Rage.

As powerful, if not more so than fear as a motivator, flooded white-hot through him as he saw the lightsaber protruding from the girl's abdomen. A moment frozen in time. A mere heartbeat of silence and stillness.

And then fury, white and hot, quickly filled him, bleeding into a bloody crimson as his eyes began to glow to match his rage. The Force flew from his fingers, the orange blade of his lightsaber starting to flicker and pulse with more power than it could handle. It cut through the other Sith like butter, his Apprentice mindful of what had happened to the last poor fool who had tried to help him when he was just a bit annoyed. The poor fool had only wanted to impress him. Instead he had been slowly dismantled and thrown to the violent wildlife to be eaten alive.

Zentashin had held nothing back when Violet had fallen, and made short work of the fools who had brought her down before quickly moving to her side, kneeling and taking her in his arms. She woke, then, and looked at him, almost desperately pushing a holo into his hand.

"Take this to a Sith Pureblood." she gasped. "Tell him that this is from Sayrai, and that I wish I could have seen him once more, before the end."

Shock.

His friend's name had been Sayrai. The name was extremely unique; she was the only one he'd even heard of with that name...

But he had to be sure.

"What is the man's name?" he had asked. A simple question. Clarification.

And he had been chilled to the bone to hear her reply, a single word passing through her lips before the coldness and peace of blissful unconsciousness took her.

"Zentashin..."

Zentashin did not remember anything before waking in his Captain's chair in the cockpit, staring into the emptiness of space after taking her to the medical facilities in Kaas city. He now sat in his chambers, both of his apprentices staring in concern.

He had watched the Holo after coming to, and the message was as he had expected: a video log, as it were, of messages she wanted him to hear, a retelling of her time training to be Sith. Using the Force to call it to himself, he watched it again, the pain welling up once more before being bled into rage as the vid ended and he rose once more.

Throughout the galaxy, the Jedi that he was coming for, the generals and grunts and beasts that he would kill all felt a chill run through them at the very moment as he moved to the cockpit, burning and ready for destruction.

They would feel his power. They would know fear, and they would see their folly in opposing him.

The galaxy would, as the annoying droid on his ship always said, tremble at his approach. And as Zentashin looked out into space through hyperspace, he had but one thought.

Nothing, not even his master or the Dark Council, would stand in the way.

He would reshape the galaxy, make sure that No-one would ever feel his pain again.

Even if he had to erase all life to do so.

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A/N: Okay, so... as I said at the top, I figured I'd write a few lines about my character for my Guild's website, and wound up with a oneshot. Better get to dusting off the old notebook; my muse might be returning!

So yeah, tell me what you think! Later peeps!


End file.
